Alright?
by Emily Colfer-Criss
Summary: Vince and Howard have a small argument about relationships that leads to a little make-out session. I suck at summaries. Slash! Rated T for language.


Howard slowly blinked his eyes open, struggling to adjust to the light that he was met with.

God.

He sat up and, after a yawn, realised he was sleeping on the sofa. Why on earth was he-?

Oh. Now he remembered.

No different from the usual, really. Vince had went out, met a girl, brought her home. But he never usually... Well, he had enough sense not to shag anyone he met at a club. But last night was different in that sense, and the last thing Howard remembered was trying desperately to drown out their, ahem, noises with his jazz tapes.

He sighed and got up, picking up Vince's stupid gothic clock watch from the floor and looking at the time. Jesus, it was nearly noon. Naboo and Bollo must have gone out, the flat was eerily quiet.

He pottered into the kitchen area and pulled a glass from the sink, but was quickly forced to turn around when he heard someone behind him.

His small eyes met those of a tall, dishevelled-looking girl with bright pink hair and far too much eye makeup, all messed up now, of course.

"Alright?" she mumbled in a hoarse voice before picking up a pair of black heels that resided next to the stairs and making her way down them. Howard heard the door slam and then the flat was back to silence.

Before the tall man could even comprehend the situation, Vince bounded out of his room, grinning.

"Alright?" Howard was greeted with for the second time in the space of 2 minutes.

"Vince."

"Yeah?"

"Who was that?"

Vince's grin widened. "Oh that's Stella. I was getting such a good vibe off her last night."

Howard frowned in disapproval, yet couldn't help marvelling at Vince. He looked pretty gorgeous for someone who'd clearly just woken up. His eyeliner was all smudged, giving his normally innocent blue eyes that wonderful 'come-to-bed' look. His pink lipstick was smudged at the corners of his mouth from kissing and other things. His hair was matted and messy, yet still as shiny and soft-looking as always. He wore a pair of black jogger bottoms, a fashion item so un-Vince that Howard did a double-take.

The small man wondered into the kitchen for a banana, then jumped up on the counter and began to eat it, all the while chatting about Stella.

"Vince," Howard interrupted, "what are you doing?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Do you not think it would be wise for you to stop shagging every girl you meet and try to settle down with someone?"

Vince feigned disgust, his posture falling. "But that's so boring, Howard! I'm not like you, I don't want some intellect. I like thick girls, you know that, and thick girls prefer one-night stands. Like those goth girls we met last week, I don't think they'd want to settle down, big man."

Howard didn't like to admit that he had some feelings for Vince. Tiny feelings, but still feelings. And to know that Vince felt nothing was more than a little heartbreaking.

"Anyway", the goth continued, "I don't shag every girl I meet. I dunno, Stella just had that vibe, y'know?"

Howard sighed in frustration. He didn't even want to think about Nanageddon. "I'm not talking about "vibes", little man. I'm talking about love. You need to find someone you love and want to spend the rest of your life with."

"I love Stella."

"No, Vince. You don't love her."

Vince paused, then grinned. "You're just jealous."

"Jealous?!" Howard said incredulously.

"Yeah."

"Are you dreaming?"

"No. Think about it," Vince smiled, "you never like any of the girls I bring home. You never think they're good enough. You-"

"They're NOT good enough, chicken-eyes," Howard stated, moving close to Vince so he could poke his shoulder in indignation. "You need someone more like... Like-"

"Like you?" Vince whispered, looking into Howard's eyes coyly, reaching out and taking his hand.

The tall man had the urge to say 'don't touch me!' but the fact that Vince was touching his hand took the words from his mouth. He only managed a small "Yeah."

Vince blinked slowly at him and spoke gently. "Howard, look, you couldn't handle me."

"What?"

"You couldn't handle me. I'm too in-the-moment for you."

"Shut up you wanker, of course I could!"

Vince said nothing, only raised an eyebrow. Before Howard could express his indignation any further, Vince leaned up and pressed his lips against Howard's.

The tall man was taken by surprise, and his eyes widened in shock as Vince shuffled closer on the kitchen counter, winding his free hand around Howard's neck.

Vince Noir was kissing him. Beautiful, gothic, STRAIGHT Vince Noir. Howard suddenly found himself relaxing into the kiss once he realised what was happening. He cautiously lifted a hand to caress Vince's hair. Surprisingly, the dark haired man said nothing, just deepened the kiss by poking his tongue against Howard's lips, gently prising them open.

He never throughout the feel of Howard's moustache softly tickling his upper lip would be so hot. Vince smiled into the kiss as Howard cupped his strong jawline.

Vince gently moved both his hands to cup his best friend's jaw, before delicately pulling away, breaking the kiss.

Howard was speechless. He stared, open-mouthed at Vince, who looked as if nothing had happened, blue eyes fixated on his hands.

He suddenly jumped off the counter, grabbed a shirt that was lying on the sofa and headed for the stairs.

"We'll have to work on your kissing later on," he grinned, turning around to face his friend. "Alright?"

"Alright."

Vince gave a small smile, before heading down the stairs with a wink.

* * *

**A/N: hi! So I've recently gotten really into The Mighty Boosh and I couldn't not write a Howince fic because Noel Fielding is too bloody gorgeous. Enjoy!**


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